Resolve to share your love

Geoff West

I hope your 2003 ended with days filled with visions of sugar plums

dancing in your head, holiday spirit lifting you and the joy of loved

ones surrounding you.

I ended my year standing before an overflow crowd at the alter in

an unfamiliar church, delivering a eulogy for a man who had been my

best friend since we were 5 years old. I stood before the throng,

which included childhood friends and relatives, college friends,

friends he had made during more than 30 years on the job, and more

recent friends, acquired after retirement, and I tried to condense a

lifetime of friendship into the very short time allotted to me on

that cool, dreary post-Christmas day.

Before it was my turn to speak, I sat clutching my wife’s hand,

fighting back tears, as my friend’s eldest daughter -- from whom he

had been estranged for nearly a decade at her request -- spoke

eloquently and passionately about her father.

She told us a story of how, many years ago, a cruel schoolmate

teased her about his profession as a police officer. She had been

taunted as a “piglet” -- the offspring of a “pig.” Her father

explained to her that the term “pig” was an acronym for pride,

integrity and guts.

She told us example after example of her father’s pride, integrity

and guts, both as a father and policeman. As I listened to this young

woman speak, beaming with pride as she talked about her father, it

was clear why she had chosen to follow him into law enforcement as a

career.

My thoughts flashed back to the last few weeks of my friend’s life

-- when he hovered near death for 44 days in a distant hospital after

suffering horrendous injuries from a motorcycle accident on a lonely

desert road early in November. By all rights, he should not have

survived the crash, but a series of fortuitous events converged to

save his life.

He was discovered almost immediately by a group of foreign

tourists -- strangers in a strange land -- who summoned nearby

railroad workers. They, in turn, summoned the rescue workers, stayed

at his side until they arrived and insisted that he be helicoptered

to the right hospital, where his life was saved.

For a month and a half, I stayed near his bedside and watched the

staff at the hospital as they skillfully juggled procedures and

medications -- trying to find the right combination of treatment that

would return my friend to us. It was a roller coaster ride for us

all, but especially for my friend, who fought with all his

considerable strength to come back.

Very early one morning in the last week of his life, a

conscientious nurse turned off his sedation, which had kept him

floating in and out of consciousness, to see how he would react to

the change. The goal being to prepare him for release to a

rehabilitation facility. Coincidentally, or perhaps guided by

something else, his former wife and the eldest daughter -- who had

spontaneously decided to make that long drive across the desert to

see him -- arrived at precisely that time and ended up having a

wonderful visit with him.

Even though he could not speak, he was able to communicate through

the firm squeeze of his hand, the nod of his head, crinkling of his

brow and tear-filled smiles. In the pre-dawn hours that morning, in

the trauma intensive care unit in a hospital in a city far from home,

he reconciled with his daughter. Having lost his father much too

early, and feeling that he had left some important things unsaid, my

friend made it a point to tell his friends how he felt about us. When

he grabbed you in a bear hug and said, “I love you, amigo,” you knew

he meant it.

Later that week, as I stood in the doorway of his hospital room

for the last 15 minutes of his life and watched his doctor

orchestrate a dozen people trying -- unsuccessfully -- to bring him

back one more time, I knew he left us with nothing unresolved.

I share this very painful, personal story with you today to remind

you, as you prepare unattainable New Year’s resolutions, that life is

much too short. I encourage you to make only one resolution this

year: to tell the people you love how you feel. And keep it. Remember

my friend and his daughter, and don’t wait until it’s too late.

I wish a safe and happy new year to you all.

* GEOFF WEST is a Costa Mesa resident.